


Your heart bleeds in water colors

by Selkie Rose (SILKCUT)



Category: Green Day, Віталій "Витас" Владасовіч Грачов | Vitaliy "Vitas" Vladasovich Grachov (Musician)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, READ ALL MY TAGS BECAUSE THEY ARE THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER, because the guys are all very young, budding bisexuality, but nevertheless this will be sweet and hopefully exciting to read, but some were also based on the information made available regarding the band, so many liberties were taken in the canon of these real people's lives, teenage crushes, this is mildly shippy but nothing will be explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SILKCUT/pseuds/Selkie%20Rose
Summary: ....the bruises that paint your skin are galaxies, as we become stardust in the dark.





	Your heart bleeds in water colors

♫︽♬︽♪

  
Billie Joe was fourteen when he started dreaming of going somewhere far from home--to a city of shining lights in an ordinary world.

The last time life wasn't good for him was on September of 1982. His aching ever since never weighed any less, but music helped him carry it day by day at least, until his lungs don't strain anymore to breathe.

He and his best friend Mike always played together as soon as school's over. They were joined by another kid, Sean Hughes, who played bass, and an older boy named John on drums and with whom they've learned several things from--such as how to truly take their practices more seriously. The four of them formed the band 'Sweet Children', and they use the only space in Billie's crowded house where they can indulge in creating music unsupervised.

And that would be the tool shed. It was largely left unkempt since no one in his family aside from his dad knew how to maintain it. Most of the stuff in the shelves are piles of junk that served no other purpose than to make the clutter stand out to any discerning guest. Still, the entire set-up was the perfect spot for said teenagers to be as loud as they need to be without disturbing Billie's siblings studying inside the house.

Since forming Sweet Children, they've received no real complaints from neighbors so far, and that's because the Armstrongs were pretty well-liked, particularly Billie, who was the youngest of six siblings. It was a hyperbolic assumption to make by now that everyone from a three-block radius has been his babysitter at some point because--ever since their mother started working two jobs--he was pretty much left to his own devices.

At exactly three in the afternoon almost everyday, the neighborhood can already expect to hear the clash of drums accompanying the unmistakable riffs that Billie was so fond of playing on his secondhand electric guitar. He was undoubtedly talented yet still rough around the edges. And the passion can almost consume him, as it teems and ebbs like chaotic energy. His siblings may have had the same inclination towards music, but only Billie seems interested in pursuing it instead of just going to college. He's been very vocal about this plan lately too, thanks in part to Mike's support every step of the way, and the fact that Billie grew up in a household where music is part of the DNA.

These boys knew, even then, that although talent fires you up in the first place, it's ultimately ambition and commitment that get you far. And the friends have all of these things in spades, while every band session brings them a step closer to realizing their shared dream.

♫︽♬︽♪

It was a Wednesday during an exam period. Seeing as it was the middle of the week, Billie Joe was already very excited. It meant that he no longer needed to abstain from band practice, whose frequency has been downgraded to the weekends at the moment due to tests. This was also why he was packing up a lot quicker than his classmates were once the bell had rung. He would have shuffled his way through the other kids also hurrying off to get out of there, when the homeroom teacher Miss Spencer asked him to wait a bit. They apparently have something to talk about at the teachers' lounge.

With a mournful glance at Mike, who's already waiting for him by the stairs, Billie dragged his feet towards the lounge and expected the worst. Miss Spencer must have noticed his expression while they were on their way there because she tells him (in that gratingly cheery tone she was known for), "Don't worry, you're not in any kind of trouble. I actually think your academic performance has improved a lot this quarter. So I hope you're proud."

Billie just shrugs off that compliment as he adjusts the red cap on his head. This one acted like a net to keep the messy curls of his dyed-black hair from sticking and flowing past his shoulders that they do enough of as it were. Once inside the lounge, he warily returns the older woman's gaze, asking, "Why am I here, teach? I really need to go home and study more, if you want my grades to stay the way they do."

"Look, William--I mean, Billie Joe, sorry!" she hastily corrects herself with a small chuckle. That's right; for the first few months everybody just assumed his full name was William Joseph, especially teachers who wanted to add some gravitas every time they address him in a serious manner. But no, it's just Billie Joe. And it annoyed the teenager that there were still a few at school who can't get it right.

"I just want to ask you a favor today, which won't take up much of your time, really..." she then looks behind him and right towards the door they've just come from. Her expression changes into something more relaxed and her smile deepens. "There's someone I would like for you to meet. I have to ask though; do you know any of our foreign exchange students?"

Billie confessed that although he's familiar of the program, he couldn't give two shits about it. He's fourteen, for crying out loud. There's dumb stuff at school he has to worry about, as well as his struggles with songwriting. Why should he care about other kids he can't even talk to because they don't speak the same language? Who's got the time?

Apparently, Miss Spencer thinks he does. An erroneous assumption that should cost her, but since Billie was a likable boy who never disrespected teachers (even if he was rebellious in subtler ways), he decides to at least hear her out. Naturally so, his eyes wander next towards the door, before they zero in on another boy who was already heading towards their pair.

They were almost the same height, he supposed, if Billie doesn't slack so much and looks as if he's nursing a lump behind him other than his backpack. This other boy was indeed foreign, because he's /pretty/ in a way that not even the most attractive of the girls in his class were. Billie always noticed things like that about other boys and never thought anything wrong about it. Of course, he knew better than to say it aloud by now; there was a small incident when he was ten that a much older boy shoved him behind a convenience store and called him a fag because Billie dared commented on said boy's very cute dimples once.

"Come closer, Vitáliy," Miss Spencer places both her hands on Billie's shoulders and gently squeezes, "This is Billie Joe..." she introduces them, "...he's very friendly, very sweet and oh-so helpful."

Jesus, this woman. Did she really have to oversell like that? It's so baffling when adults do that.

"And I believe that you boys will get along just fine. So, Billie, this is Vitáliy. He's from Latvia originally."

Is that, like, Russia or...? Billie narrows his eyes as he tries to recall simple geography. He's just about to ask the teacher too if she could repeat the name so he can at least attempt to pronounce it correctly when the boy looks straight at him, reaches forward to clasp his hand, and says only one word: "Vitas."

Billie blinks in mild shock because of the unexpected familiarity in which this kid treated him with. He's not even sure if they are shaking hands either because the other boy doesn't tighten the grasp at all.

"Oh, yes, of course," Miss Spencer chuckles, "That's how he wants to be called. So, Billie, again, this is Vitas."

An unnerving stretch of several seconds lasts with _Vitas_ just holding his hand, and all Billie could think about was that his palm is itching and getting sweaty, and it would be rude to let this utterly bizarre boy to know about it. So he lets go and sort of just tucks the hand away, like a thief that snatched something out of sight.

Vitas never noticed because he's still looking at Billie's face. The eye contact is only intimidating because it's so upfront and shameless. Miss Spencer, however, doesn't seem to care, and just explains, "Vitas can communicate in English better than most of the other foreign exchange students. He has a tutor assigned to him here in school, but we think that having him interact with someone his age on a more personal and regular basis could help him learn the nuances of the language that a classroom setting couldn't otherwise teach."

"What?" Billie looks back at the woman like she grew a set of tits on her forehead. What does this have anything to do with him?

"Now, I chose you for this, Billie Joe, because you've always struck me as warm and easy to get along with both in and out of school grounds," she explains, "And it's the perfect fit too because Vitas here is a musician. Like you."

Grimacing without intending to, Billie glances sideways at the other boy. Goddammit, he hasn't stopped staring at him at all!

"And everyone knows about the little rock band you and Michael Pritchard play in every afternoon."

"Yeah, that's why I really need to go, teach--"

"Exactly!" the damn woman just won't let up! "So why don't you take Vitas with you? Ease him into an interaction with the other boys?"

Again, WHAT? Surely someone is more qualified to do this than Billie!

But Miss Spencer has the personality of a sweet-natured, well-intentioned _dictator_ who would not budge once her mind was made up about her students. She's also prone to pairing off unlikely people during class projects, to ensure that everyone feels included and that clashing personalities can find a way towards the middle ground. And so she doesn't give Billie any leeway to recuse himself out of this, and he doesn't expect to win the argument anyway.

"Be kind to one another," she pats both boys on their backs as she sends them off. The door to lounge closed gently once she walks back to her own office, leaving Billie stranded there in the empty hall, with a new friend he's been forced to look after for today, and for many days to come.

On cue, Vitas turns his face to look at Billie again. There's nothing in his expression. He's suddenly reminded of snow gathering outside his window during the first week of winter, because this Vitas certainly has the same temperature, if not just as beautiful.

"Well, come on then, dude!" To deflect his own discomfort, Billie tugs at the sleeve of the other boy's shirt, so he can pull him along as they walk down the staircase. They had just stopped by the platform when Billie finally lets go--but then Vitas moves an inch closer instead and slips his hand to hold onto Billie's this time.

He doesn't withdraw from this intrusion. Holding hands with another boy hardly fazes him because his two older brothers had done so in the past every time they went outside to play. Granted, he's fourteen now and not a little kid anymore, and this Vitas was just a stranger--but Billie didn't mind. He just doesn't understand why they have to be holding hands now while they're just going down the steps.

Or is this a cultural thing? Whatever.

"Teach said you play music too, right?" he starts a conversation, eager to just get this over with by demonstrating how sociable he could be even when annoyed, all for the sake of keeping up appearances. "I play the guitar. My best friend Mike can do bass. And we have this guy John who's older and can do some serious damage on drums."

They have reached the end of the staircase by now when Billie squeezes Vitas' hand as they stop. It was partly to declare that he's not at all insecure to be doing this in school even as other students are walking by, and the other part is solely because it was /nice/. Vitas may be a weirdo, but Billie was a self-professed loser, who enjoys the brand of outcast that that makes him, no matter how much the adults believe he's this golden boy whom everyone is friends with.

So he can get used to this quirkiness. Why not?

"Hey, talk to me," he sways their clasped hands a few times, as a smile finally spreads on his lips, "You're good at English already so...let me hear it."

And Vitas replies using short phrases that seemed purposely elusive. He first withdraws his hand like he isn't even aware of what he had done earlier to Billie's own, and says, "Rock band. Hendrix? Beatles? Yes?"

Billie shakes his head, "Not exactly. More, like, Ramones. Sex Pistols."

Vitas frowns as if Billie is the one not speaking the language well.

With an exhale, Billie just adds, "How about you hear us out first before you make any judgments?"

"Band practice," Vitas grins like what he just uttered was a delicious, filthy secret. What a smile it was.

It makes Billie laugh without realizing it. "Yeah, as in we play together for a certain amount of time and hopefully get better as we do it."

Vitas gives him a thumbs up and a nod. Honestly, what's this guy's deal? Is he doing it on purpose?

"Come on then," he swings an arm over Vitas' shoulder in hopes to bring out something remotely human of a reaction, but the other boy just walks beside him as if they've done it plenty of times before.

The two of them don't get that far before Mike appears by the school gates. He's this gawky kid in an oversized Pink Floyd shirt, with blond hair framing his cheekbones and chin in a layered cut before the rest of it spills on his forearms. He looks like a golden retriever that's learned how to walk in two feet, and most certainly has the energetic personality to match it.

"Vitas, meet one of the greatest bass players ever born here in Oakland!" Billie is trying his best to be amicable here, "Mike, say hi to Vitas. I think he's Russian. One of the FE students in our grade, I guess."

Mike's eyebrows furrow together as he looks back and forth between Billie and the boy whom he was still holding by the shoulder using an arm.

"Michael Pritchard," Vitas declares. Oh, so he was paying attention after all. His accent is very cute too. Or something like that. Whatever, Billie isn't noticing things. However, he was surprised that Vitas doesn't attempt to give Mike a sloppy handshake too.

"Uh...okay. Hi, Vitas. But you can just call me Mike," the blond boy gives a tiny smile as he adds, "'cause I don't like being called Michael."

He then awkwardly rubs his nape before breaking into a wider grin. He glances at Billie again as he poses a question to Vitas, "So...are you coming along to hang out at the Armstrongs'?"

"Armstrongs?" Vitas repeats and ceremoniously takes the same arm Billie has draped over him to pinch the forearm questioningly, in response to Mike's query. And both boys snort a laugh at the understandable error.

"No, that's actually Bill's last name," Mike hastily corrects, still beaming. ""Armstrong'? Family name, you know? But I suppose you can say he does have a strong arm. For a scrawny little bastard, that is..."

Now it was Mike's turn to sling an arm over Vitas as the three of them start walking, with the new guy in the middle. "See, he had months to muscle up musically, what will all the shredding he's done with his guitar at home--"

"I'm also a master masturbator."

Mike guffaws, shaking his head at that crass quip. "Yeah! There's that too."

Vitas' facial expressions barely change, though he seems to keep up with the conversation easily enough. He had the same look of coy curiosity every time he's talked to so far, but every now and then he would stare in bewilderment. Much like now.

He mouths something, hardly audible. Billie cranes his head to ask, "What did you say, man?"

"Master," Vitas echoes, "Master-bay-tor. Masterbator, master of...what?"

"Wow," Mike smiles cheekily, "Maybe we should name the band with that instead. What do you think? You are the frontman. And the master of masturbation."

Billie's eyes darken for a moment as he asks Vitas, "Do you know what that word means? Masturbation?"

"No," Vitas seems uncomfortable now, probably sensing that there's something about this kind of talk that's not polite or appropriate. He seems pretty good at picking up social cues, even with the language barrier.

"Well, it's just..." Billie crudely gestures with his hand and starts giggling like an idiot. A few seconds later he waves off the entire discussion.

"Look, dude. It's not important. Pretty mundane."

"Mundane," Vitas repeats. "Means 'boring'."

"That's right," Billie doesn't know how to explain it, but he's getting used to the sound of Vlad's clipped accent. It's like the rough edge of a rare gem, "Mundane also means stupid shit."

Vitas smiles. Does he always smile like that? It wasn't unfriendly, but it's the sort of smile that makes you lean in close because you're pretty sure he's about to spill a secret.

"Stupid shit is bad," Vitas adds then looks over at Mike, "School is also. Mundane. So, maybe I can say, school is stupid shit?"

He then glances at Billie for some sort of affirmation, and the other boy is quick to lend that support.

"Fucking right it is! School _is_ stupid shit. I can't believe they make us go, like every day, and there's tons of homework about crap I'm never going to remember when I'm older, you know? And teachers are so biased and there are so many hoops they make you go through, and if you don't measure up, then tough luck, you're the dumb shit. Well, maybe I want something more in my life than just do the same thing everybody else does."

The boys are walking along the leisurely path that should lead to the suburban area for roughly around ten minutes. Since school had just ended, there were other kids around in their own little groups. Some, just like them, already have a destination in mind, while others are still figuring out how to waste away the rest of the afternoon before they inevitably have to do homework or study.

Meanwhile, Mike doesn't add anything to the conversation with his best friend and the foreign kid, not because he was shy or anything, but mainly since he's focused on getting to where they are in one piece. He's the one who had even gestured for their group to stop once the spotlight turned red and a few cars passed by. Billie was too absorbed chatting with Vitas, and the latter hardly ever took his eyes off him either.

"What something?" Vitas inquires as he pulls at the strap of his bright red backpack. The color was like an angry blotch against the pristine white polo shirt he's wearing. He had the hem tucked into his waistband, which showcases a Mickey Mouse belt buckle. Other than that accessory, the rest of him is neat, at least next to present company.

"Man, you know..." Billie looks off and observes a few other kids from their school stroll by the covered walk. He scratches the side of his head. He had always worn his cap backwards, and today the color of that matched with Vitas' backpack. The shirt he had on was secondhand from one of his brothers. It had the number 72 in faded blue letters, surrounded by a circle of stars. He looked like any fourteen-year-old loser who still doesn't know what he wants; only that he surely did, and it isn't finishing school to get a job he hates.

"I want to be able to do something I love," he utters in earnest, feeling rather bold to impart that with this stranger, as if he wants to make sure Vitas will never misunderstand what he's about. "Something I won't get sick of, that I know I'm good at and could get better at."

"Like music, yeah?" Mike pipes up again, "How's the lyrics writing, by the way? Any progress?"

"Yeah, kindda," Billie starts messing with his hair as soon as he removes his red cap. The curls on top of his head are momentarily flattened but they fluff again while he runs his fingers through them. "I mean..." He feels Vitas staring but pretends he doesn't notice, "...I've written one song so far. Mike and I...and also, John, we, uh, have this song we are confident enough to play in front of other people."

"We could play it for the new guy then!" Mike suggests with the enthusiasm of someone always open and doesn't doubt people's trustworthiness, "Will you do that for us, Vitas? Listen and give your honest opinion?"

Vitas was still staring at Billie that he doesn't seem like he even heard the blond boy. But then he shifts his gaze towards Mike and nods. "I will listen and be truthful. As true as only music from the heart can be."

When he says that last part, he locks eyes again with Billie.

"That's...okay, Vitas." What the fuck does he say to that? It was also probably the most well-phrased thing in English that Vitas has come up with so far. On any other person it would have been cheesy, but...well, there's an earnest quality about this guy once you get past his kookiness that Billie's body just naturally responds to. It makes his stomach feel knotted somehow. Not because he's upset. Or maybe he's just hungry. Yup, that has to be it.

"Hey, dudes, let's get some snacks on the way," he offers when he spots the next block that will take them to a convenience store. "We'll buy you anything you want, Vitas. You want a drink? Soda? Junk food? Candy?"

Vitas hums at first as if to contemplate on the choices before just shrugging his shoulders in the end. "Whatever you get, I will have too."

"You don't have to, I mean...what if you don't want what I want?"

"I'm sure," Vitas nods very seriously, "...that I will like it too."

From the corner of his eye, Billie sees Mike making a weird ass face. He recognizes that teasing look. He's received that look once when he told Mike that he thought Michelle Gordon's older brother Tyler looked so good in that figure-fitting dark green turtleneck he wore during winter break. His best friend hadn't said anything mean; Mike just thought it was hilarious and began teasing Billie every time Tyler would pass by the neighborhood since.

So now his face suddenly feels hot. He prays that this thing with Vitas doesn't become another Tyler incident. For god's sake, why can't he just be normal around a good-looking boy? He does fine with girls even when he thinks they're gorgeous.

"Fine, whatever," Billie grumbles, "I eat a lot of cheesy chips, just so you know. I can even finish six bags. Is that what you want?"

Vitas nods. Behind him, so does Mike, only he had a goofy grin on.

"Okay, your funeral!" By this point, Billie has pushed the doors open to the store. He didn't mean to sound like a moody idiot, but he had to get away from the burning attention for a bit, so he strolls into the first isle he spotted and browses the shelves aimlessly. When he looks behind him, he's relieved to see that Vitas stuck to Mike's side instead.

The two boys are deciding on what kind of soda to buy, and Mike looks like he's helping with the options. From where Billie was standing, he gets to appraise Vitas more carefully without being called out on it (by his dumbass best friend, especially).

It's hard to believe only less than thirty minutes or so has passed since they've been introduced under the most forced of circumstances, and now...now it was almost as if such a meeting was bound to happen one way or another. Ugh, why was he even overthinking this? He meets people all the time! With Billie and Mike's plans to spread their music and brand around, interacting with new faces and a handful of strangers has become a part of their weekend routine.

So why should befriending Vitas be any different?

He's just going to have to figure it out, won't he? Great. More homework. Je-sus.

"Come on, Bill, get your stuff and pay up!" Mike calls from the cashier.

Billie ends up buying twelve bags of his favorite cheese-flavored chips. Just to be a dick. He gives six of those to Vitas.

"You told me you'd want what I want so..."

But Vitas cheerily collects the brown paper bag in both arms, like a pillow he wouldn't want to let go, even though one bag of chip was covering his face from sight. "Yes, thank you."

With a half-exasperated sigh, Billie takes that bag of chips so it wasn't blocking his view of the other boy's face. And that was a big mistake. 

Vitas flashes him a normal smile for the first time today, and it makes his chest twinge in a way he doesn't dare explain.


End file.
